


Safe

by moonbeambucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbeambucky/pseuds/moonbeambucky
Summary: The ride home turns dangerous until you find safety with an unlikely stranger.





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Written on tumblr for @beckzorz Becca’s 1k Writing Challenge. My prompt was Public Transportation.

Routines have become a healthy part of Bucky Barnes’ life. Not to say his routines are really healthy but he tries. When Bucky’s not on a mission his day is executed the same way; get up, hit the gym, ignore Sam’s bullshit, hit the kitchen, hit the showers, ignore more of Sam’s bullshit, train a bit, hit the kitchen again, clean his guns, threaten Sam with his newly cleaned guns, attempt to learn about modern day media  _(What’s a mee-mee?)_ , give up and read a book because thankfully those haven’t changed, hit the kitchen again because truthfully he loves eating and finally after getting into his final squabble with Sam he gets in bed.

Bucky doesn’t sleep though, he wants to but he can’t. He doesn’t understand how people can just lay their head on their pillow, shut their eyes and fall asleep. It seems simple and he used to be able to do it but now it would be like asking him to magically transform his metal arm back to flesh. He just can’t.

It’s frustrating. The bags under his eyes have happily settled in, Sam has reminded him over and over again that he looks like shit and even Steve has started to worry. All of these thoughts swirl in Bucky’s head, getting louder by the minute as he stares at the ceiling with eyes wide open.

_Has that crack gotten bigger? Why is there a crack in the ceiling anyway? Does Stark know? Is Banner above me? Did Hulk make the crack? Will I wake up to Hulk falling through the ceiling?_

Wake up. If only he could fall asleep.

After too many restless nights Bucky decided he’s heading out. He needs to get rid of this anxious energy and walking around the city seems like a good idea. He hadn’t seen much of it since, well since he’s been himself again after everything. There have been times he’s wanted to go out but the Avengers generate a lot of attention and Bucky hates the spotlight.

A dark shirt stretches across his frame and he slides his legs through the pair of jeans that were crumpled on his floor. His feet slide into well worn boots as he shrugs a leather jacket over himself. It’s warm on the streets of Manhattan, even in the middle of the night but he doesn’t mind. The leather is cool and comforting against his skin which always seems to run hot.

On Bucky’s first night out he walked a dozen miles and along the way he found a bar. It was full of people that didn’t know who he was nor did they want to know him. Bodies hunched over, deep set wrinkled mouths sag even further pulling their lips down to a tired frown. They wanted to be left alone and relatably Bucky obliges.

He ordered a drink, savoring the taste as he sat for a bit, listening to music he’s pretty familiar with thanks to Tony. Bucky had heard enough disco courtesy of Steve’s “must do” list, seeking out the sounds of heavy drums and electric guitars coming from Tony’s lab instead. Music brought them closer and although there is a long way to go before they can call each other friends at least their journey will be filled with a great soundtrack.

He walks a bit more until he reaches Lower Manhattan, looking off at the blur that was the Statue of Liberty in the far distance, barely visible through the fog. It’s late and Bucky should be getting back. He feels a bit lazy and doesn’t want to walk all the way back to the Tower.

Descending the damp stairs, Bucky heads into the subway. The turnstiles block his entry to the platform. No one is around and he could easily jump over them but he knows there are cameras and the last thing he wants is to add another charge to the list of crimes he’s committed, especially one as silly as fare evasion.

His finger presses at the screen to purchase a MetroCard that allows him to legally pass through the turnstiles. A few people are spread out across the platform, a young couple smiling at each other as the taller man wraps his arms around the shorter one.

A flash of bright blue catches his eyes from the nurse who shifts the weight of her aching feet back and forth. Despite her earbuds she glances over when the couple burst out laughing. The shorter man shushes his boyfriend playfully, and when they catch Bucky’s eye he gives a friendly smile.

Wind from the arriving train whips Bucky’s hair around which he tries to comb back into place with his fingers. There is a downside to being enhanced as Bucky gets an intense whiff of the foul smelling man passed out on the opposite end of the train.

He passes through to the next train, sniffing a few times to ensure the air quality before sitting in the corner. The ride is pleasant and somehow comforting. By the time Bucky gets back to the Tower he barely takes his clothes off before plopping face first into his bed and sleeping for a few good hours.

This routine continues each night, with Bucky riding the subway for a few hours at a time, back and forth all over Manhattan until the point where he’s lulled just enough to get some rest. Sure sleeping until noon might be a problem, especially if there’s a mission on the horizon but on the bright side he’s seeing less of Sam so this may not be a problem at all.

***

Moving to New York was Y/N’s dream. While submitting applications for law school she imagined herself sitting in a cafe in the heart of the city, laptop and books sprawled out on the table with a delicious cup of coffee warming her hands as she studied. When she got accepted she eagerly packed her things and couldn’t wait for her dreams to come true.

There were struggles along the way. A glitch in the system caused her to miss out on the already limited student housing and the list of affordable student rentals off campus had no availability. The small amount of money she had in savings served as a cushion for her to get a room rental.

During the day she went to school, at night she worked at a bar and every moment in between she studied until she could barely see, all while pushing the boundaries on caffeine consumption and sleep deprivation. It was worth it though she reminded herself.

She was in her last year of school and soon she’d be living in a real apartment and sleep normal hours in a bed; not facedown drooling on the desk of the library, not on the subway with her head rolling forward and jolting her awake and certainly not standing up behind the bar during work while patrons called for her attention. (She was nearly fired over that!)

Y/N no longer falls asleep on the subway, especially not when she’s headed home in the middle of the night. Sure it would be easier to take an Uber but she can’t afford the cost. Instead she sits in the corner at the end, right across from the conductor booth. Occasionally an MTA worker will pop out and either give a nod her way or ignore her completely as they go to the booth on the opposite end of the train to prepare themselves for the next stop.

Her seat is usually available at this hour which is comforting. Y/N feels safer with her back against the metal wall, with the exits right beside her as she overlooks the rest of the train. She’s on alert at all times, armed with her keys in between her knuckles, just in case.

Riding the subway during the day is a lot better. Sure it’s very crowded and sometimes she struggles to find a seat, occasionally squeezing to a spot in between manspreaders who touch her thigh, by accident. Other times she’s stuck in between a huge group of people, holding on to the pole for balance as someone else gropes her ass,  _not_ by accident.

It’s much easier to call out these perverts when the train is crowded; she feels safe. Other people have her back, just as she has theirs in similar situations; everyone working together to scream and sometimes push the pervert off the train at the next stop. Occurrences like these were definitely not part of Y/N’s dreams when she pictured living in New York, but she can’t blame her dreams for the faults of others.

Y/N walked to her preferred spot, the bright orange seat welcoming her under the yellow tinged lighting. At the opposite end of the train is someone else in the same spot. Arms crossed over a broad frame, the hood of a sweatshirt pulled down covering almost their entire face with just a peek of stubble sticking out. She places her keys between her knuckles, keeping her hand in the front pocket of her hoodie and waits for the long journey home to begin.

A few stops later two men get on the train, one is tall and slim with a shaved head and the other a bit shorter with a stocky build and a mess of dark hair. She stiffens in her seat watching as they sit diagonally to her, skipping a seat in between each other and spreading their legs out wide. The bald one leans his head back as he rubs his eyes, listening as the other one turned his head to speak.

The jagged end of the keys scratch in between her fingers as she grips them tighter, watching carefully as the one with dark hair gets up and crosses towards her, eyeing the subway map to her right. Y/N doesn’t make any eye contact with him but she still sees his frame standing there from the corner of her eye. She flinches as he shouts unexpectedly at the rough and shaky ride, swallowing a nervous lump she holds her breath until he sits back down next to his friend, except he doesn’t.

He walks to the door at the end of the train right in front of her and stares through to the next train.  _Is he looking for someone? Will he pass through?_  No. He leans against the conductor booth standing two feet away from Y/N, jutting his hips out a bit that are unfortunately at her eye level.

She ignores him, looking towards the rest of the train seeing his friend, now wide-eyed and smirking. Whatever game they’re playing Y/N wants no part of, she just wants to go home.

From the corner of Y/N’s eyes she sees the man in front of her moving his arm. Cautiously she looks, regretting what she sees. He’s rubbing himself through his jeans, eyeing her like she’s a piece of meat.

Y/N looks back to the bald man, his legs are spread even wider, with his hands down his pants. He blows a sickening kiss her way as he twists his wrist up showing the very tip of his erection at the top of his pants.

The man in front of her moans as his own hands travel inside his pants as he starts to rub himself harder.

Panic floods Y/N’s veins, rushing through like a coursing river, drowning her in fear. She’s alone. She’s alone with two men, no– two monsters, who could easily overpower her. She’s alone on this train. The conductor booths are empty, the sleeping man is still asleep and even if she called out to him would he care? Would he help or would he join this group of demons and think with his primitive, carnal brain?

It was humiliating to sit there, knowing what they were doing as she did nothing. The keys between her fingers turned to jelly. She couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t stand up for herself and she hates it. Y/N hates every minute she sits there in silence, wishing she had the help of strangers crowding around her to support the verbal lashing she would give them. Y/N hates that she has to rely on safety in numbers, that she can’t even speak up to stop this.

The train slows down as it approaches the next stop and Y/N decides she’s getting off before they do. She calms her nerves, shifting slightly in the seat so she can briskly leave the train, hoping above all that there are other people on the platform.

An automated voice informs arrival at the station and as soon as the doors open Y/N gets up without looking back.

The platform is empty, not that she expected a crowd but even one person would make her feel more at ease. She heads towards the nearest set of stairs, walking faster as she now hears voices behind her.

Y/N knows it’s them. She feels it in her gut, the sickening feeling, her stomach twisting into uneasy knots at the threat behind her. She doesn’t dare look, she can’t slow herself down in any way.

“Where’re ya going sweetheart? We just wanna talk.”

Y/N moves faster up the second set of stairs. She’ll be safe as long as she stays ahead of them. If she gets to the street she can pop into a deli or a bar, anywhere where there are people, where she’ll be safe.

“Get back here bitch!”

They stampede behind her like wild animals, chasing after their prey. Y/N’s panting, rushing up the remainder of steps, her eyes filling with hope as she sees the metal turnstiles to exit. She’s nearly there but hope is pulled away. They’ve caught up to her, one of them grabbing her leg.

Y/N collapses against the stairs, her arm stinging at the pain of how she landed but she doesn’t care. Her keys clang as they drop from her hands.

They’ve got her, pulling her up by the loops of her jeans and back towards them, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Her skin crawls as she feels the press of his hardness against her but she doesn’t stop fighting.

Her arms try to break the hold, her legs kick wildly as she’s dragged back towards the landing trying to break free. Her cheek collides with the cold tile as they slam her against the wall, holding her arms back so she couldn’t move.

They’re laughing. Y/N doesn’t need to see them to know there’s a smile spread across their faces. They’re enjoying this, enjoying her pain as she bites back a sob.

Tears burn their way to her eyes as she hears a zipper being pulled down, buzzing like a bee in her ear. She braces herself for the sting.

A cry of agony echoes in the stairwell but it’s not hers. The bald man was charged at; a stranger came towards him like a bull, fierce and focused as he speared him down. The other man behind Y/N let go of her arms, quickly pulling his pants up so he could fight.

She moves away with her back pressed against the wall watching the scene unfold like an action movie come to life.

Long, dark hair blankets the face of the man who came to her rescue, who shoves her assailant face first into the wall. Tiles shatter as he crumples to the ground unconscious.

The bald man groaned as he got up, pulling a small knife from his pants but the stranger dodges the poor attempt at an attack. Quickly he disarms the man, retrieves the knife for himself with an expert flick of his wrist, flipping the blade midair to catch it again by the hilt.

He forces the man to the wall with his left forearm, cutting off oxygen as he leans in with extra pressure.

“Think you’re so tough, huh? You don’t look so tough now,“ the long haired man snarled, threatening the man’s eye with the blade.  

He gasps for breath, begging for his life through fear laden eyes that reveal a deeper truth, he’s a coward. The long haired man knocks him out with a nose shattering punch.

The stranger takes a breath, calming his nerves that were electrified the moment he realized the girl was in trouble. She’s still behind him, he can hear the fast rhythm of her heart, the shakiness of her breathing.

He turns slowly to face her, his heart breaking at the small abrasion on her cheek. He saved her but he wasn’t fast enough, they had still hurt her.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, keeping his distance because there was no way he was going to force himself into her personal space after what happened.

Y/N was frozen against the wall, wary of the man in front of her. She should be thankful he stopped her attackers but the way he did it… he was dangerous and she’s not sure if she should trust a dangerous man.

She stares him down, her eyes following the curve of obvious muscle even through the thick sweatshirt down to his hands, one tainted red, dripping blood that is not his own, the other a dark metal.

Her brows furrow as her eyes travel upwards to his face confirming his identity. Ocean blue eyes that hold more than a lifetime of memories, good and bad, a soft smile, just a hint pulling at his bright pink lips that stand out against dark stubble.

Y/N’s eyes widen in further recognition. The man who saved her, Bucky Barnes, an actual Avenger was the sleeping man from the train.

“You…” she said, unable to articulate herself further, not when she thought about everything; what almost happened, what did happen. “You were on the train.”

Y/N glances at her superhero savior. She had seen firsthand a small glimpse of his strength and yet he stands before her looking anything but. His shoulders are slumped down, his head hangs low as sadness swims around the deep blue pools of his eyes.

Bucky was her hero but he definitely didn’t feel super.

He was on the train and he could have stopped this sooner if he hadn’t fallen asleep. Bucky’s train rides gave him enough comfort to rest when he was home but  _never_ before has he let his guard down like this and fallen asleep in a public place.

The guilt eats away at him and he lets it, offering every part of his aching soul willingly. If he was awake this wouldn’t have happened. He would have tackled these guys to the ground a lot sooner. She would have been safe.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, staring at her shamefully. “It shouldn’t have come to this.”

“Don’t.” Y/N takes a step closer to him, “You’re not responsible for what they did.” She glances briefly behind him, checking that the men were still knocked out. “Thank you Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smiled softly, “It’s Bucky, and you’re welcome…” he quirked his head, wordlessly asking for her name. “You’re safe now Y/N,” he promised.

Pulling his phone out Bucky places a call, following protocol in the event an Avenger was involved in a civilian altercation. He panics when he turns around not seeing Y/N anywhere until she reappears, taking slow, measured steps down the stairs, still wary of the men on the ground.

“My keys,” she said, holding them up to him; a simple explanation as she had gone to retrieve them but the thought of her disappearing still worried him. Sure there were statements to give but Bucky cared more about her state of mind, knowing this type of situation can have a long lasting impact.

Bucky explained SHIELD would be coming to process the scene, assuring her things would be handled more efficiently than the NYPD.

“You’ll just need to give your statement once and everything will be handled. Pressing charges and all of that… it’s a lot easier ‘cause I got involved.”

The words leave a bitter taste on Bucky’s tongue; the fact that Y/N would get justice easily only because of his involvement. She won’t have to worry about being questioned as to why this happened, as if anything she did or the clothes she wore would ever be justification for this to happen. It’s not, not to her or anyone.

SHIELD arrives quickly after, beginning to take photographs before they handcuff the men. Bucky doesn’t leave Y/N’s side as she details the full encounter, his stomach twisting at what those sick fucks did all while he was asleep. He bites his tongue, swallowing his anger. This isn’t about him.

Incredibly things have cleaned up quickly, the only evidence of anything happening was the cracked subway tile. An agent approaches Y/N asking if she would like a ride home. She wants to trust them but she can’t bring herself to.

Bucky sees the apprehension in her eyes. “If it’s alright with Y/N,” he began, looking at her so she understood he knew what she was thinking, “I’d like to personally make sure that she gets home safely.”

Y/N nodded as she looked between the Agent and Bucky, her lips pulling in the faintest smile as she stared at the man she felt safest with.

They were alone again, standing in the silence of the stairwell. Y/N doesn’t know what to say. Bucky’s supposed to be taking her home but the thought of being alone terrifies her. Sure she has roommates and everyone is friendly with each other but they aren’t really friends. They’re not the type you wake up in the middle of the night to tell about your assault on the train and rescue by an Avenger.

Actually they might think the last part is pretty cool but Y/N would much rather be saved by an Avenger for something mundane. The Falcon could save her from a wild cyclist or maybe Iron Man could scan her yogurt and prevent her from eating it past the expiration date, or Bucky… Well, she can’t lie to herself, it’s definitely nice being around him, even if the circumstances were awful.

“I don’t want to go home,” she finally blurted out, her words echoing throughout the empty stairwell.

Bucky understands. He’s had seventy years of suffering he’s still dealing with, the reason for even being out in the middle of the night. He hates knowing sleep will escape her too, that she will beg her brain to turn off but instead it will force her to relieve the trauma.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, happy to see her nodding without hesitation.

They ascend to the street, feeling the cool wind refreshing their skin. The sky is just beginning to lighten, with the darkest, deepest blues retreating, breaking away to give the smallest hint of an orange glow in the distance.

Together they walk silently, with Y/N leaning close to Bucky, bumping into him every now and then but he doesn’t mind; she needs to feel him beside her and he kind of likes it.

“Where were you coming from?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She explained her schedule of school and work, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever been in her bar during one of his midnight strolls. He doubts it, he would have remembered her. He thinks to himself that taking the trains in the middle of the night isn’t safe.  _No shit Barnes, look at what happened._  Instead he asks if she considered taking a taxi home.

“I wish!” she laughed. “They’re too expensive, even Uber. I’m struggling enough as it is.”

Money is a luxury Bucky hasn’t had to think about. Sure when he was younger he started working to help his folks, taking a newspaper route with Steve, working twice as hard that winter when his friend was stuck in the house with pneumonia. Now he doesn’t worry about anything. He has a home, two homes technically, not that he’s been to the compound in a while. Food is always stocked in the fridge and he’s never worried about it running out. Money is just available to him if he needs to buy clothes or the childhood candies he likes to occasionally treat himself to.

Bucky apologizes but Y/N ensures him there’s nothing to apologize for. He may live a luxurious life now but she would not trade her path for his.

A small bodega is the only store open for blocks so they stop in, greeted by a grey and white cat sleeping across the newspaper rack. Colorful packages of candy and chips surround the register, the junk food seems very tempting but before she can pick something out Bucky confirms if it’s alright to place an order for coffee and sandwiches. He pays but can’t leave until the man behind the counter takes a picture with him, excited to have a real “Vengador” visit his store.

They walk two more quick blocks until they reach Battery Park, strolling through the paths until they find the perfect bench to sit on. The coffee is still nice and hot, and the bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches are possibly the greatest thing they’ve ever eaten. A much better choice than the junk she would have chosen.

Napkins sop up the gooey cheesy from the corner of her mouth as Y/N makes conversation. “What were you doing on the train anyway?”

Bucky swallows a mouthful. “Helps me sleep,” he answered, looking at her with big, innocent eyes.

“Like a baby? In a car?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He felt embarrassed until he saw a genuine smile pulling at Y/N’s lips as she brought the coffee to her lips.

“When do you finish school?” he asked, wanting to know more about her.

“I’m in my last year, then it’s study for the Bar, hope I pass and then I won’t need to risk my life every night on the subway. I’ll just go back to the daytime groping.”

Bucky stops himself from taking a bite, putting his sandwich back down on the paper in his lap. He shifts himself to turn towards Y/N, “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Not everyone is as kind as you, then again you’re from a different time.”

Bucky shakes his head. “The time has nothing to do with it, pigs will be pigs. During the war my sister Rebecca went to work. She wrote to me saying how she had to quit because her boss was putting his hands on her. She had to quit. That’s what they taught her back then. Well I’ll tell you, Becca didn’t quit without sockin’ him right in the eye!”

Y/N likes the way Bucky’s face lights up like the sun while reminiscing about his sister. Bucky likes the way she laughs at his story, how a smile suits her face so much more than the anguish he first saw on her.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay after this.” His eyes are determined in that truth and Y/N smiles, wanting to believe him.

They finish their food and sip coffee as people pass them by to jog along the water. Despite the caffeine Y/N covers her mouth as she yawns but Bucky is wide awake, thanks to the coffee and the early morning ass kicking. He supposes she’ll need to go home soon but the thought that she’ll have to repeat this subway routine again tonight makes him uneasy.

“I wouldn’t mind making sure you get home safe every night,” he said, breaking the soft silence between them. “Since I’m up anyway.”

Her lips pull to a short lived smile. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. As long as I’m here, not on a mission or something, I really don’t mind.” Bucky smiled sincerely, and Y/N saw nothing but truth in his sweet blue eyes. “We could take the train… together?” he suggested, “or I could drive you home.”

Y/N chewed on her lip as she examined the hopeful look on Bucky’s face, patiently waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know… Should I really trust a sleep deprived old man?”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open at her words as she graced his ears with the sweet sound of her laughter. Still, he shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s… that was cold. You been talking to Falcon behind my back or something?” he joked.

“Fine, I will accept your offer of  _driving_.” Y/N yawns again, leaning her head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be taking public transportation at night for a while.”

He’s happy, not that she is avoiding the subway because it shouldn’t have to come to that but because he knows she’ll be getting home safe each night with him.

“Where do you live anyway?” Bucky questioned. “I should have asked this before offering. Hope I haven’t committed myself to driving to Jersey or something,” he scoffed jokingly.

“Brooklyn.”

Bucky smiles, his heart swells like a balloon and he feels like he needs to grip the bench so he doesn’t float away.

“Brooklyn it is.”

They sit for a while longer, putting the long night behind them as the sun rises on a new day.


End file.
